Bot whan sche takth hir conseil with Satorne,

Ther is no grace, and in that time, I gesse,

Began mi love, of which myn hevynesse

Is now and evere schal, bot if I spede:

So wot I noght miself what is to rede.

Forthi to you, Cupide and Venus bothe, 2280

With al myn hertes obeissance I preie,

If ye were ate ferste time wrothe,